


The Seven Scars Of Loki

by Palefire73



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel, thanos - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Confiding, Fluffy-ish, Friendship, Gen, Graphic Descriptions of Torture, Heartache, King and Servant, Revelations, Torture, Violence, series enrichment, the abyss - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-12 15:11:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5670427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palefire73/pseuds/Palefire73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki reveals just how he got the horrendous scars which in my fiction mar his body in his Asgardian form, along with others that are not quite so obvious... This one was sometimes horrible to write and made me feel awful for making it up, but it is what made "my" Loki who he is. I'm sorry for hurting you so badly, Loki.</p><p>                                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story is about Loki and my own original character, Erika. She first featured in "Am I Truly A Monster" Which was succeeded by the "Diaries" Series, told from her POV. She is now in "States Of A God's Heart", which stands alone, but also serves as a sequel to "To Tame A God", and she has small mentions in other stories too.
> 
> If you are thinking of reading this one, it will work on its own - kind of. It's a lot better if you know about Erika, though and if you are reading States of A God's heart, then you need to be up to about chapter 15 or 16 or so :D

 

Loki looked round at Erika, who had stopped what she was doing some moments ago. She was standing back from him, holding the bathrobe she had just helped him out of and she was staring in shock at his back.

 

“Erika!” He said sharply, indicating a soft blue undershirt laid neatly out on the bed, “If you please – I will be late for court and Odin is never late!”

 

The young girl did not respond to his words, infuriating him. She dropped one side of the robe to reach out the fingers of her hand, still staring at his back. He whirled around, breaking the spell she seemed to be under and she blinked in fear and stepped back.

“Erika!” He shouted at her this time and her face instantly betrayed how scared she was of him, “Stop staring like some kind of simpleton and help me on with Odin’s clothing.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” She replied meekly and turned to pick up the undershirt. Loki almost felt guilty for his harsh tone, but not quite. Erika had only been working for him for a short time – ever since she had discovered he was alive and well and disguising himself as Odin – and she was proving to be quite naïve and in need of instruction in a lot of her duties. She also needed to rein in her tongue, having annoyed him with well-observed home truths on a couple of occasions. She helped him on with the undershirt and then began to help him to dress in the complicated armour which Odin wore whilst in his official capacity as King of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms. He held his arm out as she placed a pauldron on his shoulder, but after a minute or two he became impatient again as she fumbled with the fastenings. Time was ticking and at this rate he would be lucky to attend court before lunchtime!

 

“What is the matter, Erika?” He asked, again in an impatient tone. Had it been wise to take her on like this? A bit of magic would have had him clad in Odin’s outfit in mere seconds, but he had decided to have this as part of the young girl’s duties because he knew it was uncomfortable for her and so kept her more in line. He wanted her to have a healthy fear of him so that she would be less likely to reveal his presence to anyone.

 

“I apologise, Your Highness.” She said in a quiet voice, struggling to attach the piece of armour properly, “I have never… ow!” She snatched her hand away and the pauldron fell to the floor with a loud clang. Loki looked down at it rocking on the spot, ready to shout at her, but she was cradling one hand in the other and the look of fear she gave him was awful.

“I am sorry Loki!” She exclaimed and picked the pauldron up, but still she held the other hand close to her stomach with the fist clenched.

“Your Highness.” Loki corrected, taking the pauldron from her to make sure it was not scratched.

“Your Highness.” She whispered, clutching at her hand and now looking like she was trying to hold back tears. She swallowed and seemed to try to fight back these signs of weakness, then reached out to take the pauldron back whilst still favouring her other hand.

 

“I apologise, Your Highness.” She said for the second time in as many minutes, “I have never seen armour up close and I confess I have never had to dress anyone in it before.” She placed the pauldron back on his shoulder and then brought her other hand back up to try again. Loki saw a raised red welt at the base of her thumb where she must have trapped it in the fastenings and he brought his own hand up to touch it lightly with his pale fingertips. Erika paused in what she was doing and a small smile of wonder formed on her young face as his simple incantation took the damage – and the pain – away.

 

“This strap goes here…” He said, guiding her hand, “… and you place this edge against here before pulling it tight.” He demonstrated for her and she nodded her understanding. He unfastened it again and handed it back to her. “Now, you try.”

 

His maid bit her lip and nodded dutifully. The Trickster disguised his irritation as she said, “Yes Loki.” while copying what he had shown her. Once she had finished, her face had lit up with a pretty smile, “I do believe I have managed to do it Lo…” Upon seeing his face darken slightly, she corrected herself, “… Your Highness.” She stepped back and picked up Odin’s cloak, which she attached to his armour; no easy task, being about two feet shorter than him. She brushed away errant fluff and then smiled. “I think you are ready.”

“Thank you, Erika.” Loki transformed into the All-Father and she put on his eyepatch. “Is that everything?” He asked, turning around for her to check.

“Just Gungnir, Your Majesty.” She reminded him and he duly summoned the great sceptre. He looked at Erika and she found it to be a strange feeling knowing that it was Loki, not Odin whose blue eye was fixed upon her.

“Well, you have the rest of your duties to attend to and I, mine. You are free from duty this evening as there is a ceremonial feast I must attend. I will see you tomorrow morning at the usual time.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Erika curtseyed and he crossed to the door. He briefly looked back at her before he left the room and saw her looking at her hand where he had touched it, stroking the healed skin.

 

And to the consternation of the cold-hearted God Of Mischief, he felt himself smile.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

That had been some time ago and it had taken a few confrontations, a lot of shouting, various punishments and other experiences together for Loki and Erika to get used to each other and to reach some kind of precarious equilibrium where he was mostly in charge and she nearly always did as he bade her, even if her tongue was still untamed. One night, he returned from his duties as the King of Asgard particularly tired and bad tempered and coming very close to deciding to reveal his presence to the Asgardians as their true King. As he closed the door behind him, he had found the suite to be cosily lit by just the huge fireplace and a few strategically placed candles. There was an air of sweet incense and as he walked through to his bedroom area, he could see steam emerging from the bathroom. A table was set for him to dine and he picked up the goblet of wine as he passed it to take a leisurely sip while he went to investigate. He peered into the luxurious en suite to see Erika leaning over the large bath, swirling the hot water around to create wonderfully perfumed bubbles and was reminded of the day their paths had first crossed.

 

She stood up and dried her hands on a fluffy towel and he quickly stepped back out into his bedroom. Seconds later, Erika walked out and he was surprised to see her smile when she saw he was there.

“Good evening, Erika.” He said, draining the goblet and placing it on his bedside table.

“Good evening, Your Highness. How was your day?” She came to him and began to remove his cloak and armour. Loki relaxed his disguise and as she reached up to unfasten the clasps of the back plate, she saw the snowy mane transform into his own luxurious Stygian black locks.

“Exhausting.” He felt her take off the back plate and although he was more than strong enough to bear its weight all day, he still felt great relief with every part of armour his maid removed. Once he was down to the soft under garments, he was eager to take his bath and he did not wait for her to continue. He went through to the en suite and asked “Could you bring me another goblet of wine please, Erika?” as he disappeared through the door.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The young maid hung the armour on its various supports as she heard the sounds of her King climbing into the tub of hot scented water she had prepared for him. She refilled the goblet with more of the spicy Asgardian Red and went to take it in to him, hoping he was finding his bath relaxing.

 

Loki was indeed relaxing in his bath, but he did not look to be in a happy frame of mind. Rather than lying back and luxuriating properly in the wonderfully perfumed water, he was sitting hunched over with his head resting on his arms, which were in turn resting on the knees of his drawn up legs. His black hair had parted at the back of his head to fall forwards hiding his face, and his back and shoulders were exposed to her above the line of the sparkling bubbles, revealing the horrendous scarring he carried on his skin.

 

Erika had seen these scars on a few occasions and Loki’s harsh reactions had quickly taught her they were not something up for discussion. However, tonight they were on prominent display and her curious young mind almost slipped her mouth into gear well before her brain could put on any brakes. Fortunately, sense prevailed and she held her tongue. She crossed to the bath and placed the goblet on a small ornate table next to it, then placed a folded towel on the floor to kneel upon and began to massage Loki’s incredibly tensed up shoulders. After a few moments, he made an appreciative noise and murmured, “That feels wonderful…” in a tired voice. Erika continued to press her fingers firmly into the hard muscles, working up to his neck slowly and after a few minutes thought she could detect a small slackening off of the rock hard tension within them.

 

Her natural inclination was to then bring her attention down to his upper back, but those awful raised and ragged welts on his skin worried her; should she avoid them, or was it alright to touch them? Would he be offended if he felt her purposefully avoiding them? In true Erika style, she stewed over it for a few minutes while she continued to massage his neck and paying attention to relatively ‘safe’ portions of his body before plucking up the courage to ask.

 

“Your Highness… Loki?” Her voice was low and thoughtful and matched the relaxed and distracted mood her actions – along with the wine and the nice bath – had placed him in.

“Hmmm?” - his only indication of interest in what she wanted to say. He was very tired and her attention was pleasant, making him very drowsy and placing him in the frame of mind to skip supper and go straight to bed. He even overlooked her use of his name rather than his title. But he knew what she was going to ask before the question left her lips. He waited, enjoying the feel of her strong fingers easing away some of the tension that had built there during the day. He decided that no matter how she asked the question, she really was genuinely curious and did not mean to try to gain anything from the answer he might give. This girl had spent the last few weeks – stretching now into months – proving that she was more than a mere servant. For some reason, one that neither of them could possibly define, she had overcome many obstacles, had risen above a lot of bad treatment and had almost shamed him with her maturity and loyalty towards him. It far outstripped anything he may have expected of a mere seventeen year old.

“I want to ask you something. Yet I fear your reaction.” She was obviously incredibly curious, yet was still worried he would respond badly to her question.

“What is it Erika?” He continued to sit in the hot perfumed water with his head bowed; enjoying the relief her hands were affording his muscles.

“I… er… I…” She paused, “Oh Loki, you must know I have seen your scars and you have admonished me in the past for staring at them. Yet… I only did so because they invoked such feelings in me! I am sure you do not need to be told this, but they are so terrible that I cannot imagine how you came about them.” Her gentle fingertips lingered on one of the jagged raised welts, “Yet I would know their stories.” She paused again, as if acknowledging that her words transgressed the relationship a servant should have with their monarch, yet wanting to know more in order to understand him on a basic level. Could it be that his maid was unconsciously making efforts to become more to him? To maybe even become his friend? “I would know more about how you became you.”

 

For once in his life, Loki relented. He raised his head and spoke gently.

“Erika, please get my robe. I will answer your questions. But not here.”


	2. One: Into the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki starts to tell Erika of the ways in which he became scarred...

 

Loki and Erika had retired to the seating area near the fireplace and settled on one of the huge sofas there. She had brought him his goblet and the carafe of Asgardian Red, along with a plate of tid-bits from the supper table and had then sat opposite him with her legs curled up on the sofa and hugging a cushion as she listened. For the first time since he had lost his mother, Loki talked. About himself, as himself and with complete candour.

 

“You are curious as to how I got these scars.” He stated, playing with the stem of the goblet he held. He smiled briefly then looked at her with a deadly serious expression, “Not easily.” He looked away, lost in recollection and for a moment, she almost thought he had forgotten she was there. But then he started talking again and what he went on to tell her was one of the saddest, most awful tales she had ever heard. The seemingly hard-hearted, narcissistic and aloof God allowed her a glimpse of some of what he held inside, locked away so no one could see and it upset her to realise how much pain there was in him. Although a lot of his actions were still unforgivable, she began to make sense of perhaps what had led him to do them.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“I was a King once.” He started, “King of Asgard. King Loki of Asgard – in my own right, made so by Queen Frigga. Odin lay in the Odinsleep, Thor was banished on Midgard and I was next in line. I sat upon the throne of Asgard legitimately, having been sanctioned by my mother!” Loki sighed and reined in the bad temper which was now threatening as he remembered the unfairness of it all. “It was all taken away from me. Thor ruined my plans to please Odin through the decimation of Jotúnnheimr, and in doing so created a wormhole through which I fell. It was full of gigantic streaks of lightning, which struck me over and over again, being attracted by my armour and I began to get excruciating pain across my back where the parts of the armour that hold my cloak are particularly thick. I tried to heal myself, but I was disorientated and could not manage. I blacked out and I do not know for how long I fell nor how much more I was struck.

 

“When I awoke it was incredibly dark, but I could see that I was in a parched, dark and cold plain, and I was aching from head to toe. I was lying on hard and sharp rock, so I struggled to sit up and for a while I confess I was not sure what to do. I could see nothing recognisable in front of me, nor behind. I looked up and there was not a single star in the sky. There was nothing to indicate from where I had come and no clues as to where I should go.

 

“I had been rejected by the very God who had saved me from dying in my infantile form so soon after crossing over from the Chaos Realm and who, until only days before, I had believed to be of my own kin. As you can imagine, I was in a terrible state of mind; I thought at first that I had fallen to my death and was on the approach to Nifelheimr and thence to Helheimr. But after much consideration I decided I must still be alive wherever it was I had ended up, as there was not another soul around to indicate that I may be in the underworld and so I had no choice really. It was either stay put and experience a long death of starvation and thirst whilst hoping help would arrive, or walk in the hope that I would eventually find somewhere or someone who could tell me where I was.

 

“So I walked.” A wry smile crossed his lips, “As you can see, I am not – and I was not – an unhealthy individual. I am a God and as such I am of superior physical condition, even though I am not a muscle-bound warrior.” Erika blushed slightly as images of Loki’s physique flashed in her mind. He was not one for being modest about his naked form and she had been treated to an eyeful – albeit accidental – on many an occasion and he was not wrong in his prideful self-assessment. He continued, “Yet my wanderings in that place nearly brought me to my knees. I tried my best to keep to as straight a path as I could follow, but I know… _I know_ I retraced steps and walked in circles and, with hindsight, I also know that it was all orchestrated with the intention of wearing me down. From the moment I fell from the Bi Frost into that place, I had been detected and perceived as a potential threat. But in keeping me trapped in that rocky labyrinth for days – even weeks – on end wandering lost and trying to find my way out, I turned from threat into commodity and I was eventually allowed to come to where my captor resided.”

 

Loki took a drink from his goblet and looked over to Erika, who was curled up with her cushion as if listening to a bedtime story and saw her attention was riveted upon him, but in seeing to his own comforts, she had neglected to provide anything for herself. He summoned a cup of watered mead to the table next to her and she reached out to take it slowly. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

 

“I do not know how much knowledge you have of matters outside the universe in which Yggdrasil and the Nine exist, but my captor was Thanos The Eternal, a powerful being known as a Titan. He travels all the universes and ours is but one of them. The place I had been transported to through the wormhole created by the Bi Frost and its destruction was in the Abyss which is a place between universes where he had chosen to remain undetected for a while. And then I had landed there; a God of impressive physical and – he assumed – mental stature and possibly someone to be utilised in one of his many schemes. When he deemed me to be in a weak and desperate enough state to be manipulated and pressed into his service, he dropped some of the enchantments and I was permitted to find his hideout. My armour was in a poor state; it was rusted and damaged from the fall, my clothing was dirty and I – well, let us just say that apart from my injuries I was in desperate need of food and water and… and I needed a bath.” Loki looked at Erika and winked as he took another drink from his goblet and she reddened, remembering how they had met.

 

“I was exhausted, starving, thirsty, filthy and suffering terrible injuries – desperate in every way when I stumbled into a well-lit area carved out of the rock. There was a huge curving set of stones hanging in mid-air in the configuration of steps leading up and out of it to somewhere unseen and there was a hooded figure standing at the bottom of them. I made my way over to him and fell to my knees, asking where I was. All I got for this was to be hit violently from behind and I blacked out.

 

He saw Erika wince at this and he almost laughed; that had been some of the kinder treatment he had received there in the abyss at the hands of Thanos and his henchmen. He carried on.

 

“When I regained consciousness, I was lying on the ground in front of a huge throne-like chair, which had its back to me. If I had been feeling bad before, it was nothing compared to how I felt there in Thanos’ lair. I could tell now that my armour was stuck to me across one of my shoulder blades and my hair was singed and ruined. The skin of my face felt tight and burned in places and my hunger and thirst were unbearable. I could see the hooded figure standing next to the chair watching me and so I appealed to him. I asked him to help me, but he ignored me. Instead, the chair began to rotate and that is when I saw Thanos for the first time. It is hard to describe him to someone who has never seen the like, but he is a formidable being. A colossus. Indestructible. Truly frightening, especially to someone in the state I found myself to be.”

 

A dark look of fear had transformed Loki’s face as he had recounted his first experience of the Titan and he drank deeply from his goblet, lost again in thought. Erika got up and went to him to refill it from the carafe, breaking him out of his reverie.

 

“Thank you Erika. He was amiable at first. He questioned me of course; who was I? Where had I come from? What was my purpose? I answered everything as well as I could; he had the upper hand and I was in a most desperate state. I do not know how it happened, but I eventually divulged many things about myself that I would not normally have done – I believe I was approaching delirium at this point due to my physical deterioration and I just wanted someone to hear of my woes and to potentially sympathise with me and help me. I told him of my heritage, my struggles in the shadow of Thor and of how I had come to be there in the Abyss. All of it seemed in some way to interest and even to amuse him and once I had finished, exhausted by the telling, he motioned to someone who must have been standing behind me, because I felt a blow and everything went black again.”

 

“That is horrible!” Exclaimed Erika. “Who could be so cruel as that? He sounds like a…”

“Monster?” Asked Loki softly, with a hint of irony in his voice. “Yes, I suppose it does sound cruel, yet you have to think of it from his point of view: a stranger comes hurtling straight into your hideout, which you had believed well hidden, and turns out to be a God from his home universe. What would you, as an egotistical megalomaniac bent on destroying all the known universes in order to win the love of such a one as Mistress Death, do in this situation?

 

“Hmmm,” He smiled ironically, “The pressures of being in such a position.”

 

The dark haired King took another long drink of the heady wine and fell silent again, staring down at the red liquid in the ornate goblet. He glanced around at the King’s suite. Such luxuries he had here. Such comforts. Ample food, drink, company – anything he desired at his beck and call. He did not even have to think much about it; Erika more often than not catered to his every whim before he had even considered it, like a truly dedicated servant should. He frowned. She was not just his servant! Not any more. She was more than that, and slowly becoming much more. The sound of her placing her own drink on the table brought him back to the here and now and he remembered that he was telling her of the origin of his scars. What was the matter with him lately? This girl was really starting to get under his skin! He would never be so personal with another, yet she… she just had something about her. Somehow her fresh, untainted naivety, along with her feisty and brave nature had sparked a rare respect in him. The fact that she was so utterly loyal to him still surprised him every time she proved it. Gods, it was almost as if they truly cared for one another!

 

“Loki, are you tired? You have had a long day and perhaps you should turn in?”

“Is my tale that boring Erika? Am I keeping you from your bed?”

“No, no… I simply thought…”

“Erika, I jest. I am not that tired; I was merely lost in thought. Would you like me to continue?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small warning that this story will have some very graphic descriptions of torture and injury from here on in, so just be wary if you're not into horror/gore.


	3. Two: The First Scar. Thanos The Eternal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki describes how the first of his scars was created.  
> Last warning for the graphic nature of the narrative.
> 
> The only problem with completing a fic before starting to publish is that there is an incredible temptation to immediately post all the chapters!

 

Erika nodded, “I… I think so Loki. I want… well, I want to understand better. You must agree that we have been through a lot and this is one of the few things I have not really pressed you to discuss. But I see your scars most days now and I hate being so uncomfortable around you. My duties for you are very personal at times and…”

“Very well, Erika. There is no need to explain.” Loki smiled and sipped at his wine, which was now making him feel very warm and relaxed, almost the complete opposite to how he had felt when he had regained consciousness in the captivity of Thanos for the second time. He had found himself sitting on a wooden chair with his wrists bound in the magical cord named Gleipnir. He was also tied around his chest to the back of the chair to keep him upright. Seeing him move, the hooded figure stepped forwards and pulled at his patchy damaged hair to raise his head. Then Loki had felt the amazing sensation of cool fresh water trickling between his dry and cracked lips, bathing his swollen tongue in a wet silken stream.

 

“It was the sweetest drink I had ever had.” Said Loki in an almost wistful tone of voice. “Nothing has matched it since.” As if trying to recapture the moment, he drained his goblet and before she could start to get up, refilled it from the carafe himself.

 

“Thanos had more questions, most of which did not make sense to me; I could not understand what he wanted from his line of questioning. But then he mentioned a couple of artefacts known to me. One was the Infinity Gauntlet, which I had seen once or twice in our weapons vault, and the other was a stone of limitless power – the ‘Tesseract’. He said that he required them and that anyone who could aid him in his venture would be well rewarded. My interest was piqued of course; I was lost to Asgard, which I had just found out was not my true home. I assumed that I was thought dead by Thor and Odin having fallen into that wormhole. I was in disgrace anyway and I had a profound hatred for Thor and the All-Father. I did not know at that point in time just how twisted and merciless Thanos could be and so I listened at first. Every now and then, The Other would give me a sip of the water and to my addled mind it felt as if I was in the presence of my rescuers, not my jailors.

 

“Yet, as he talked, I somehow detected a base madness to his thoughts and I realised that if I aided his plans – even to gain my revenge against Asgard – it would lead eventually to the destruction of absolutely everything in Yggdrasil as well as all the other universes. His passion for his mission was driven by a deep, insatiable and unrequited love and I knew he would stop at nothing to achieve it. Yes I wanted to see the House of Odinson fall, but I also wanted to live on to enjoy it! There was no way that I wanted to help him to destroy absolutely everything in existence.”

 

Loki stood up and went to sit beside Erika with his back to her. He shrugged off his robe, exposing the ruined skin and reached up to move his hair to one side so she could see the full extent of the scars which carpeted the pale skin of his back. Erika felt her face grow hot and the first of many tears sprang to her eyes as she looked at them.

“Why do you not disguise them, Loki? They are not visible when you take on Odin’s form…” She started to lift the robe back up to cover him, but Loki stopped her.

 

“No Erika. I want you to see them properly. I do not disguise them because they are part of me and now, well now I find myself wanting someone to know of them and to be able to see them without feeling fear or… or disgust.”

“I am not disgusted!” Said Erika sadly, “I am just so horrified that there is someone out there who managed to do this to someone else. Especially you, with your powers for healing…”

 

A pang of sadness and guilt went through Loki as he remembered the last person who had said much the same thing. But he had turned on her and had hurt her terribly. He would not do that now. Now, he was ready to tell someone about what he had experienced in a way that he would not cause harm to the listener in the process. What he had done to that poor Midgardian girl was unforgivable, but it no longer mattered. He sighed.

 

“Yes, my healing powers. Depleted in the fall through the wormhole and slow to regenerate as I hungered and thirsted in the dark labyrinth of the Abyss before Thanos allowed me to find him. The drink I was being given had started small feelings of rejuvenation, but I was no where near my full strength – not by any means, which is why I got the first of my scars.

“First one?” Asked Erika. “Are they not all part of the same injury?”

Loki smiled and laughed a small and sad laugh. “No, Erika. There is more than one. Each and every one inflicted in a different way. I will tell you of the first now. Touch my shoulder, where the pauldron sits.”

 

He felt her cool finger rest gently on his skin, but it was to one side of the scar and he knew she was purposefully avoiding the site of that first injury.

“No, Erika. I know you can see it. Touch the top of that scar.”

 

The one he was referring to was a pink raised crescent of scar tissue that led from the top of his shoulder and underneath his arm, then carried on as a smoother paler strip at an angle down his back to the top of his natal cleft. It was slightly raised, but smooth despite this and so it was not as easily visible as some of the others until one really looked at it. Erika traced her finger around the top part of his shoulder and he cast a mild pain reduction spell as she unwittingly left a trail of fiery heat on his damaged skin.

 

“That was where the pauldron had fused to my body through the repeated lightning strikes as I fell. The raw energy had burned away parts of the under clothing and had left my skin next to the bare metal. With every strike, the metal conducted the electricity straight onto my skin and the heat generated caused them to join together.” He explained. As she moved her hand down to touch the wider, slightly pink and shiny part that led on down his back in a long triangular shape, he shivered slightly as he continued. “And that was caused by my refusal to help Thanos in his quest.

 

“He did not question my decision once I had made it; he simply smiled and turned his back. Before I knew it, I had been freed from the chair and I was thrown to my knees, but my hands were still bound in front of me. Someone – and I think there was more than one – placed their foot on my back, took hold of my pauldron and with tremendous force pulled it away.”

 

“No!” Gasped Erika and she screwed up her face and closed her eyes in horror as if trying to deny the images that flashed across her mind’s eye. Her small hand instinctively stroked the scar, as if to try to make it better like a mother would a bruised knee for her child.

“I cannot describe the pain Erika. Suffice to say, it hurt and the feeling of the strip of skin coming away right down my back was incredibly unpleasant too. As you can imagine, I was completely shocked and in intense pain, yet I tried to heal. But I was weakened and my hands were bound in Gleipnir, which somehow diluted my magic. I only managed to dull the sensations and stop the bleeding before I eventually passed out from the pain, the shock and the effort of trying to cast the magic against the constraints of the Gleipnir. As you can see, it was an open raw wound right down to the muscle and bone and without healing stones, magic or a Soul Forge to hand, there was no way I was ever going to be able to rebuild the skin properly. I was reliant on my body’s weakened ability to heal itself and I suppose it has done the best it could. If I had been a mortal, then it would possibly have been a fatal wound.”

 

Loki heard Erika sniff from behind him and he turned slightly to look at her sorrowful face. Tears had made shiny tracks down her cheeks from her crystal blue eyes and he realised that some of his narration probably included things a young naïve Palace maid should not be exposed to. He was not sure she should hear anymore, as things had only got worse. He watched as she used her sleeve to scrub away the salty drops and she reached out to retrieve her cup of mead, which she all but drained.

 

“Are you sure you want me to continue?” He asked again.

 

Erika nodded, although she was becoming rather unsure about this. Her naïve curiosity about the raised welts and burn scars seemed to have led to Loki deciding to really open up to her. Rather than tell a simple tale of having received them at the hands of a torturer, he was going into great detail about this period of his life; just allowing himself to talk freely and candidly. Although appalled at his first tale and now dreading what she would hear as he continued to describe the others, she felt that he must want to do this, and so she nodded again.

 

“Yes Loki. No matter how they happened, I think it is time you talked about them. They are just another burden for you to carry alone if you do not entrust their story to someone else.”

“Hmmm.” He smiled thoughtfully at her and then looked away again, those beautiful green eyes revealing nothing. He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees and he felt Erika’s gentle fingertips rest on his shoulder as she stroked that first scar again curiously. The sensation of it was a strange one; it was partly soothing as she was being so gentle, but it also hurt him and he cast another mild spell to numb the pain again.

 

“Well then…”


	4. Three: The Second Scar: Heritage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to wield the Mind Gem against people in Midgard, Loki first had to be taken under its spell... and Thanos predicts what will turn out to be his most terrible crime to date.

 

“I was left on that cold floor after they had done that to me and I lay with my face in the dirt, unable to do anything because of the pain on top of the state I was already in. My wrists were no longer bound together, but a length of the cord was tied around one of my ankles in a knot too complicated for me to untie and so there was no escape. I would not have known where to go anyway. After a length of time I had no way of determining accurately, the one I came to refer to as The Other came to me and untied me. There was no way that I was able to escape in the physical state I was in and he left almost straight away. Later on, another being came to me bearing water and some kind of foodstuff. The temptation to eat and drink it all was terribly strong, but I knew my weakened body would reject it if I did, so I made myself take it slowly. It was agony to accomplish, but I knew I had to do it if I was to have any chance of my body starting to recover. It turned out that there was no need to rush it anyway; I was left alone for another long period of time. You have to understand that there was neither night nor day, but I tried to ration myself and I roughly guessed around two days passed as I consumed the provisions left for me.

 

“My shoulder and back felt as if they were on fire where the skin had been torn away, but any attempt to try to heal them drained me so quickly that I passed out two or three times. After that I had to restrict myself to simple pain reduction – but I could not maintain the spells for long before I had to stop due to fatigue; the Gleipnir dampened the effect produced for the effort made and it began to occur to me that it was probably not worth it and the energy expenditure was probably causing me to waste further. I was reasonably confident that my superior immunity would fight off any infection from an open wound and so I had to make the choice to stop my attempts to heal and to only try pain relief when it really got too much to bear – and I can bear a lot. Eventually Thanos returned. I had mixed emotions about that; relief that he had not simply left me to rot, but dread as to what he might choose to do next.”

 

“Where had he been?” Asked Erika.

 

“He had been gathering information about me. He had discovered how I had come to be in the abyss and it was this information he now used against me. He did not even re-new his offer of joining him in his quest for the power gems. The wounds he inflicted upon me this time were more subtle than the last; they were physical wounds entwined with mental ones. The marks they left on my body are not as bad as the first scar, but every single one corresponds to a period of mental torture, which left marks upon my mind.”

“Mental torture? What do you mean?” Erika was confused; Loki had always seemed to be a self-assured and confident God before he had fallen. How had someone managed to break him down?

“Everyone’s mind can be unravelled Erika. It is simply a matter of pulling enough threads hard enough.” He gave out a short ironic laugh, “In the state I was he did not have to try very hard. He set off by asking again how I had happened to fall from Asgard. He listened at first as I repeated a lot of what I had already told him, as if he was checking how truthful I was being.

 

“However, after a while he began to ask more pointed questions. ‘How had I simply forgotten that I was from Chaos and not a physical plain?’, ‘How had I not known I was different?’, ‘Did I think my life could have been looked back upon as the truth anymore?’, ‘Did I really think Frigga had loved me as a true mother would have done, knowing what I was inside?’ They went on and on. He was methodically digging into my self-worth, dismantling my sense of having belonged and tearing my history to pieces. He quickly discovered which subjects would wear me down the most and he pursued them relentlessly! But there was one thing he said that had the worst effect on me and to this day I do not truly know with any certainty how he could have known it would come about.” Loki’s voice cracked as he said this and Erika wondered what could have been so bad.

“Loki…?”

“He told me I would cause the death of Frigga. He told me I would be directly responsible for it. And then he laughed and told me it did not really matter now that I knew she had only been some kind of a stand-in, no better than a nanny at best. He insinuated that I would feel no remorse even if I raised a knife to her throat myself”

“Oh no!” Exclaimed Erika. She slipped her arms around the front of her King and rested her cheek on his back as she hugged him close in sympathy. “Oh, Loki, no!”

He stiffened slightly as his maid blatantly, yet without thought, overstepped the mark. Although he had allowed her to touch the scar on his shoulder, he had not invited this closer physical contact and no servant should ever presume to touch the Royal Person like this without permission! But then he relaxed as he remembered she was  a mere teenager and was simply extending comfort and sympathy towards him in the same way she would to anyone else she cared about. No matter. They had shared close physical contact before in several kinds of circumstances and her brain would catch up with what she had done in a moment… and it did. Erika suddenly became acutely aware of what she was doing and quickly withdrew, “I apologise, Your High…”

“No matter Erika.” Loki interrupted gently, “Thank you.” He sighed, “All I can think of as a source of information this accurate about the future is Mistress Death herself. The very woman Thanos was hoping to court through the destruction of all the known universes. Either that or… an exceptionally lucky guess.” Loki could see Erika was confused about this and it was obvious to the God just why; she – along with everyone else – had no idea just why Malekith and Kurse had been able to get to the Queen of Asgard and murder her so easily.

 

“The scar he left during his dissection of my sense of identity and the destruction of any ideas about what my true heritage might be probably almost look like my Jotúnn markings to you. Indeed, when I am in my Jotúnn form…” Erika watched as the blue blossomed across his skin and his body grew more muscular under her fingers, “… you will see it as simply another design on my skin. He had help of course, in creating it. There is another Infinity Stone and it is called the Mind Gem. While he was subjecting me to this psychological abuse, he was wielding it and it messed with my mind and sensibilities terribly. You will have to look in my hair to find the scar it left.”

 

Erika thought of the times she had washed Loki’s hair and frowned slightly; she had not noticed any unusual markings. But now that she was purposefully looking for something, she found it. The scar was indeed a pale blue colour like his others, not red; the base of it was aligned with the base of his skull and looked almost like the roots of a tree. It was very fine and the tendrils led off down his neck for a short distance before tapering into nothing. She parted his hair as he bent his head and saw how the scar then travelled upwards and branched out to send thin lines through his black locks to form a web of reminders of the pain Thanos had subjected him to.

 

“This is terrible!” Whispered Erika as she smoothed his luxurious hair back down. She absent-mindedly combed her fingers through it and he straightened back up again, his Jotúnn blue fading back into his habitual Asgardian form.

“That is an understatement.” Murmured Loki as he closed his eyes and appreciated her gentle attention. His scalp still hurt on occasion, but it was not from the scar he had just shown her. The scars formed by his tortured mind sending out waves of distress in response to the damage done by the Mind Gem were nothing compared to the one he kept permanently hidden under an intricate glamour. A glamour so strong that it would probably not even fail should he die. Just as the God of Mischief was entrusting these confidences to his maid, he was already considering keeping one of them from her. Even he had not laid eyes upon that one for a long time as he had woven some of his most powerful magic in order to keep it hidden. It had been made by one who he had not thought he would see again. Indeed, by one he had forgotten the very existence of until he had fallen into the abyss and Thanos had brought his true origin – from even before his discovery as a baby on the wastes of Jotúnnheimr – rushing back to him.

For Loki was not a Frost Giant. He was not an Asgardian. He was something else entirely and in that inhospitable place, at the hands of that merciless brute, he had been forced to remember his true origin, his true place of genesis and his true master. And it was his true master who had been invited to take part in the breaking of the Trickster, a chance to exact his punishment for deserting his home realm of Chaos.


	5. Four: The Third Scar: Character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it is described to her how Thanos continued working on the surprisingly resistant Loki, Erika sees the signs of something within the God of Lies that one might call madness...

 

“I still somehow resisted.” Loki continued, “Although I believe I more than likely knew I was up against a powerful being, I did not yet know to what depths Thanos would descend in order to get his own way. In my arrogance I still believed I was going to walk out of there under my own terms.” He sighed, “I could not have been more wrong. That first injury took a long time to start to even heal. I hope you never have to experience anything like it; I even got to the point where I did not notice the pain because it was simply part of my existence.”

 

Loki thought back to the hours – days? – he had spent on that dirt floor in the darkness of the abyss with only distant alien galaxies faintly illuminating the skies. But there had been periods of time interspersed with the dark where he had been taken away from that place by Thanos. Times when he had been shown glimpses of what the Eternal was trying to do again and again. The first time, he had been dragged to his feet and up the floating steps to a platform where a small craft of some kind waited. His exhausted body had been strapped into a seat and he had no time to compose himself or to even comprehend what was happening before he was subjected to great acceleration and a wave of nausea had hit him. Only the deep voice of Thanos commentating on their destination had kept his senses around him and after what felt like an hour, the craft had slowed down and stopped. They had been at the edge of a planetary system of some kind, with three faintly illuminated worlds orbiting a central sun of an icy blue colour. As Loki had peered through sore eyes at the spectacle before him, the sun had suddenly become painfully bright and had seemed to swell slightly. Then it shrank swiftly before exploding, engulfing the surrounding planets within seconds. The horrified God of Mischief had been treated to the laugh of the maniac beside him as he had listed the statistics of the system just destroyed:

 

“One dwarf blue sun, three inner planets – one of which was inhabited by fifteen billion intelligent beings and its moon by four million more – and a faint asteroid belt that had five and a half thousand potentially inhabitable bodies. And they were all taken out by accelerating the rate of fusion in the star at the centre of the system. Simple if you do it one by one. But I do not have the time to do this one by one. I need the power gems!” Loki had only just turned to look in shock at Thanos in time to see the giant purple fist approaching his face before he was knocked out.

 

When he had regained consciousness, he had been back on the dirt floor.

 

There had been other instances where he had been taken to other star systems, planets and even down onto their surfaces to walk unseen amongst the creatures that had populated them. But one thing happened each time; Thanos would return Loki to the craft, they would retreat far out into space and then the God of Lies would be forced to watch on as the life of the system was extinguished. He would be returned to the abyss and left alone, then the Other would bring him the sweet soothing water and Thanos would arrive to talk to him of the great rewards that helping him to track down the gems could bring. Food and a promise to spare Yggdrasil was often brought into it in order to increase the pressure upon Loki to accept. Then when Loki showed no enthusiasm for helping out, he would resort to his cruel tactics once more, occasionally bringing out the Mind Gem to increase the mental pressure on the God of Lies he was trying to force to submit to his will.

 

He still did not quite know how the Titan had managed to do it; there had not been one single perfect moment of having been sound of mind leading up to it and having lost all sense of identity the next. The erosion of his character had taken repeated visits which had consisted of the methodical picking apart of personality, confidence and feeling of self-worth. The lack of proper contact with anyone except Thanos, who spent his time alternating between reminding him of how no one had yet come to find him and dissecting the disparity with which Odin had treated the princes, and the Other, who barely spoke at all, meant that his captors became Loki’s world. It was made up of long periods of cold dark silence with gnawing hunger, burning thirst and the dissipation of his powers, only briefly relieved by cool refreshing water in his throat as he was systematically mentally abused. Bit by bit, Thanos peeled away the outer shell of first the Asgardian Prince and then the infant Frost Giant to reveal the Fire Spirit of Chaos residing deep within him.

 

“These scars rarely surface.” Loki continued his tale for Erika, “I am much more aware of them than the others, although these do not pain me like the ones on my skin. I know they hardly ever show because they are either hidden while I am concentrating on being Asgardian or disguised by my colouring when I am in my Jotúnn form. It takes loss of control or great rage or a similar emotion to build within me in order for them to appear, for they can only be seen when I wear my Asgardian form.” He laughed. “I suppose you could say they define my true character as it is now, possibly as it always has been deep down. They do not call me the Trickster for nothing…”

 

Loki shifted in his seat and began to turn to face Erika, “For is not one’s character a reflection of that which the Midgardians call a ‘soul’? And – are the eyes not the windows to one’s soul?”

 

Loki had turned completely round and now faced Erika properly. He was looking down at her hands which he took into his own and slowly he lifted his face to look at her properly, square on. And then she saw the scars Thanos had inflicted on Loki’s character. His beautiful, sparkling emerald eyes were fixed on her, looking deep into hers of crystal blue. As his flickered back and forth between hers, she sensed – rather than saw – him relax just a tiny amount and something in them began to change. Red fissures appeared in the green irises, causing a fractured appearance and ran from the darker outer rim towards the pupil, where a red halo surrounded the inky black circle. Within the red cracks, there were burning fires raging and chaotic swirls of oranges and crimson – like the centre of a barely controlled sun on the verge of spilling out and engulfing them. She was looking through his eyes right into his true self. She was seeing the Chaos Spirit of Fire.

 

She gasped as she saw clearly the Jotúnn and the Asgardian competing to be seen, but there was something else just behind them, something that hinted at a whole different level of danger. Loki’s character had been shattered by the Titan and his ability to separate the two facets of his heritage – and hence his personality – had been irreparably damaged. Thanos had stolen Loki’s ability to completely quash one for the other. He would forever be a Jotúnn son of Asgard, with his inner spirit of Chaos threatening to break out from beneath them. Instinctively, she reached out and placed a soft hand on one of his cheeks as she stared at the alien yet strangely and curiously beautifully patterned irises. With a small, sad smile on her face she whispered, “Just when I thought you had no more surprises…”

 

Loki broke the intense gaze and she saw that same yet opposite effort and she realised he was composing himself; the shapeshifter was disguising his true nature in order to present to her exactly what he wanted her to see. When he looked back at her, the crimson streaks had gone, leaving clear crystal green eyes staring at her. They twinkled with the God’s inimitable sense of mischief as he said:

“Oh Erika! I am full of them!”

 

Loki rose from the sofa, leaving his robe behind on the white cushion. Erika averted her eyes quickly from his naked body and cleared her throat as she reached to pick up her empty cup.

 

“Sorry, Erika!” Loki called over his shoulder and as she looked back up, she saw he had conjured a pair of soft black lounging pants. She sighed; he did not look any less alluring – and he more than likely knew it. She was a healthy young female after all and naturally appreciated a fine male physique – and his casual attire played more with her senses than if he had remained unclothed. He sauntered out of sight around the corner to where his desk was and she got up to help herself to some of the Asgardian red in the carafe. As she sat back down, he ambled back towards her and she had to look away from his slim athletic torso or blush – or perhaps she blushed anyway behind the rim of her cup as she took a large gulp of her wine.

 

Loki sat back down beside her and she saw that he had brought a book.

 

“Chaos, Erika.” He said and indicated the page where he had opened the thick tome. It was beautifully illustrated with very detailed pictures and the script was of the illuminated kind seen in religious texts of some other realms.

“Chaos?” She asked, and looked up to see him studying her, whereupon she quickly looked back down to the page.

“It is where I am from, Erika.” He answered, pointing at the images of strange ethereal creatures which seemed to be swimming around in a formless place on one side of twin rivers, with what looked like Asgard on the other side. A large man – Odin? She wondered – was standing on the bank of the river on the side of the city, looking over towards where the shapeless creatures made up of different colours were. “I have taken time to think upon things since I came back to Asgard and of course I have access to the largest library in the Nine. I have traced my true heritage. I have looked back into my history, the history of Asgard, the history of the Nine. It is a cycle, Erika. It is never-ending. It goes on forever and the Nine must be renewed, whether now, tomorrow, in a year, a century…. Nothing lasts forever and I see clearly why I came to Asgard in the first place. I am the agent through which Yggdrasil and the Nine will be reborn, Erika. By bringing down the House of Odinson and all he has kept in a stale and unchanging state for century upon century, I will bring about the rebirth of the great tree and all she holds within her shelter. Only through Chaos can order be reborn…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read!  
> I'm just going to take you by the hand now, as we are about to descend the steps into the inferno... next chapter up soon


	6. Five: The Road To Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Loki carries on with his story, he shocks Erika with just how removed he seems from the horror of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some graphic descriptions of injury and torture. They are here as they are intrinsic to the story and the emotion I wish to invoke in the reader. Only read if you are not squeamish. And Erika does play your part when she tells him off!

 

As her King grew impassioned with his words and his plans to bring about Ragnarök, Erika saw those beautiful deep green eyes of his waver with the same red cracks he had shown her earlier and she saw the Chaos swirling within them. She became frightened – was he mad? She had never seen such enthusiasm in the Trickster before, but now he was happy about what he was showing her, wanting to win her over to his cause and for her to see it the same way he did; not as complete annihilation of everything she knew, but as the chance for a clean start for the Nine. The young maid was horrified; did he not see that he would destroy the lives of countless millions of people – or did he not care? She had to do something!

 

“Loki…”

“Do you not see? Do you not see how things are clogged up with bad feeling, old history and reluctance to allow change? To bring on the turn of the wheel will allow Yggdrasil and the Nine to be free of the old tired ideas and to give free rein to those who will rise from the ashes to make a better future!” He stood up and closed the book. Walking over to his desk to return it, he asked, “Surely you would welcome the opportunity to make your mark on the future history of the Nine?”

Erika sighed; he was deluded! How could he think that the Asgardian mortals would survive something as cataclysmic as this? How could any of the mortal races hope to survive? The Gods and Goddesses themselves were predicted to fall! Loki was clearly and conveniently ignoring these things it seemed, including the potential for his own demise. She took a large sip of her wine and stared down into its red world, wondering if there was any way she could get through to him and try to make him see that his plans would mean the ruination of the whole of the Nine and everyone who lived there. She looked up to see him returning and he sat down next to her again, smiling. “Are you well, Erika? Do you wish to retire? It grows very late.”

“No, Your Highness, no. Listen, your plans…”

“Did you know there is a religion on Midgard called Christianity and they have a place called Hell?” Interrupted Loki, “It is a place that no one wishes to go, a little like Muspelheimr and you go there when you die if you have been bad, no matter how you perish. They do not have a Valhalla; instead of spending their lives trying to be valiant and brave warriors, they spend them trying to be good and mild and give help to the weak and needy so that they can go to a different place called Heaven, where they will exist forever with their God. A strange set of ideas, yet their idea of this ‘Hell’ intrigues me. Because, of all the places I have heard of, whether mythical or real, it is the one place I believe I may have spent time in.

 

“I did not get all my scars from my time in the abyss but I will tell you now of the worst of them. I admit I was not going to tell you of this one; it involves more of what I showed you in that book. But since I have started to tell you of my origin, I may as well carry on. You want to know all about me?” He smirked, “You may end up wishing that you had decided to keep your mouth shut and had instead sent me off to my bed!

 

“Of course you have seen the web of scars that covers a lot of my back. Considering they are the legacy of having been dined upon by the daemons from the abyss whilst I was too weak to beat them off, I believe they do not look too bad!” He laughed bitterly and Erika now avoided looking at them, unable to see them without imagining the horror of what he had just described. “Oh, after a while you can no longer feel these things; your nerves are so overloaded by heat and pain that little things like having your living flesh torn from you and feeling tiny barbed tongues lapping at your life’s blood out of the wounds caused by the whips cease to bother you that much.”

“Loki!” Erika’s voice cut his words off as she sobbed out his name. “Stop it!” To his surprise, he realised that she was crying. “Just… stop it!” Her fingers touched his back, tracing the scars purposefully, as if she was trying to erase them, “I… I cannot stand this. I do not understand how you can relate this to me in such a hard manner, Loki. Do you feel nothing? Nothing at all?!” She continued to touch the welts on his back and he remained silent, feeling the trails of fire her fingers created with their contact. He relaxed his Asgardian form, allowing the Jotúnn flesh to take its place, bringing down his core temperature and helping the burning she was unknowingly causing to be alleviated.

 

He turned to face Erika and her hands dropped into her lap, where her small fingers entwined as she tried to control her tears. Loki lifted her chin and looked at her with his deep crimson eyes curiously, “Erika?” He asked and she slowly looked at him, sniffing and wiping her eyes. “I do feel.” He said softly. “I never stop…”

“Then how can you tell me about them in this fashion?” She asked sadly, “How are you able to talk about how they were caused in a voice so… so… devoid of emotion that it is as if you are talking about something of little consequence?!” Her young face was set in an open expression of confusion and upset and he was reminded of just who it was he was talking to.

“Erika, I apologise. This is too much for you and I should never have agreed to it.” He slowly resumed his Asgardian form and smiled at her, “I really do think it is time for us to retire…”

“No.” Erika’s quiet refusal was a surprise to him, “I want to know… but just…” She sighed heavily and looked seriously at him, “Just stop being so blasé about it! You are not impressing anyone by trying to make out as if you do not care about what happened. All it does is make you seem hollow, empty somehow. And I do not believe you are. We started this so I could understand you better, not for you to try to hide from me behind more secrets and lies.”

 

By the Norns! How could a mere teenager be so perceptive? Why did this girl manage to point out the truth of the situation time and time again? He almost wanted to laugh incredulously at the way that she was acting like the more mature of the two of them, but he knew it would not go down well and so he kept a serious face.

 

“I am sorry, Erika. It is possibly because I have never had the opportunity to discuss this with anyone that I seem jaded and cynical about the whole experience. I was forgetting myself and of course, the subject matter is not of an easy nature to listen to.” Loki rose from the sofa and lifted the carafe, which was almost empty, and poured the last of the rich red wine into his goblet before sitting at the opposite end of the sofa to curl his feet up underneath him. He sipped at his drink, looking thoughtfully over the rim of the goblet at Erika, his emerald eyes not really seeing her as he decided how to tell her of the rest of his tale.

 

“So. The heaviest physical scar I bear.” He started. “It is grotesque. I have not even seen it myself since I finally managed to disguise it. I have had physical healing attempted on it, but it was forged with the fires of Muspelheimr and by one proficient in the skills of Seidr. Even with the most powerful enchantments, Soul Forge Masters and medicines, this one will never go away. I need to ask you: are you curious enough to want to see it, or will you simply hear its tale?”

 

Erika took a little time to deliberate upon his question before answering him. “I will allow you to decide, Your Highness. If you truly do not wish anyone to see it, then you must not reveal it. Even to me.”

“Very well.” Said Loki and he watched as she leaned back against the other end of the sofa, mirroring him in curling her legs up, and then bringing a large cushion up to hug to her chest as she settled down to listen to him. “My worst physical scar…”


	7. Six: The Fourth Scar: Surtr's Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not content to torture Loki on his own, Thanos decides to throw a bit of Chaos into the mix...
> 
> Warning: Graphic descriptions of wounds and language designed to try to make you upset for Loki.

 

“After continuing to resist him, Thanos had me removed from the cold dark of the abyss and I was chained up by my wrists to huge pillars of rock in a terrible place. It was a tiny island in a lake of lava, deep in the pits of Muspelheimr I thought, although it could have been anywhere, possibly even the Christian Hell. It was so hot, Erika, so hot I cannot describe it properly. The pillars to which I was chained glowed with their own inner heat and the metal links were white hot and burned into my skin. The very air was hot and dry and scorched my throat and lungs as I breathed, my hair singed around my burned face and I tried not to open my eyes too much as I could feel the moisture being sucked from them every second I dared to look upon the place I was kept.

 

“I had all but lost my mind by now – there was a period of time, maybe many – when I know I was unable to form a coherent thought and I was certainly as an animal caged. Pain and… and fear was all I knew. Ha! Fear! An emotion I liked to believe I did not have much experience of, but which I now know I was very familiar with – and still am. Fear is simply the application of common sense in the face of terror. It is a survival tool I now realise – not something to be ashamed of. Ha!! If nothing else, the time I spent in the abyss made me grow up! But at that moment, hunger and thirst had become faint memories of a discomfort once treasured; Thanos had completely broken me – or so I thought – and now I was in his chains and there he lashed me with whips of red hot metal until I was senseless. I could no longer respond enough to even defy him; these days were no longer about him trying to subjugate me. These days were sheer sadistic violence and torture and nothing else. He is a sick and twisted being, Erika – capable of acts far worse than anything you could ever imagine.

 

“He had grown bored after I could no longer respond to his actions. My body was broken – literally – my voice was damaged to the point where I could hardly make a sound. Now I was no fun anymore and he simply left me as a plaything for the creatures that existed in that place. First the Fire Giants came. Although I am of Chaos inside, the physiology into which I was born on the physical plain was that of a Jotúnn and to have a Frost Giant to torture was undoubtedly fun, but I can hardly remember it; only the actions of their clubs breaking my legs remain. The sensation of the broken bones puncturing my skin and ripping it open to be exposed to the heat of the lake of fire was exquisite. I do not recall anything else they may have done.”

 

Erika was watching Loki with great sorrow as he recounted this period of time; it still seemed as if he felt nothing, or if he did, it was not evident in his voice or his face. He looked lost somehow, devoid of emotion as he described the parts he could remember and in a way she now thought it was possibly for the best. The pictures he was painting in her relatively inexperienced mind’s eye were bad enough and she knew the ones he was remembering were a whole lot worse. The telling of the origin of his scars was taking its toll on her King and she finally decided it really was time to call a halt to this harrowing recollection.

 

“Loki…”

“Thank you for listening to me Erika.” He interrupted in a low voice. His goblet was empty and so was the carafe. He waved his hand and some of the finest, smoothest red in the wine cellar of the Palace of Asgard was magically relocated to the table beside him. As he poured it, he continued: “Telling someone all of this is strangely… cathartic, somehow. Do you mind if I carry on? I am sorry that I keep asking you, but you must tell me if you wish me to stop.”

 

She rose and went over to sit beside him. Holding her own cup out for him to pour a little wine into she said, “I was going to ask you to stop, but I think we both know you need to tell this to the end. Are you sure you wish to entrust me with the rest of what you have to tell?”

 

Loki smiled as he poured her drink, “Of course I do Erika. We have been through much together and you are about the only one I feel I can talk to like this any more. I do not know what that means, or where it leaves us but for now I am content to use this moment to try to explain some of what I am to you. If that means you can understand me better, then so be it. If not, then I do not think we will be any worse off?” He looked up and she nodded, “No Loki, I do not think we will be any worse off.” She reached over to his robe to pull it back up over his shoulders, but he placed a hand on her wrist.

“Please, Erika, leave it.” He said quietly and for several moments they looked at each other; she deciding if it was a good idea and he hoping she would relent. Eventually, she allowed the silken material to fall, exposing his skin to the cool night air again, which felt wonderful to him. One thing he had not told her was how these scars still burned him constantly, some more than others as if there had been a kind of fiery magic woven in to each one as it had been created. It took no mean amount of magical ability to dampen it to a bearable level, along with keeping up the glamour which disguised the awful scar reaching from above one eyebrow over the top of his head and down behind his ear. It was fortunate his skill in this kind of magical cloaking was of such a high level. It had become second nature and he had also acquired certain modifications to his person which ensured the chance of the glamour failing was next to impossible.

 

Basically, the appearance Loki presented to the Nine was a lie. Underneath the handsome Asgardian visage was an altogether different creature. Loki on the inside was not beautiful with pale skin and emerald eyes. Nor was he a formidable Jotúnn warrior with mesmerising crimson eyes set in a face of the most alluring shade of blue; he was a spirit of chaos made flesh. He was as formless as the wind in his true physical state; the structure he assumed from one moment to the next was only ever as permanent as his thoughts. But there were certain constraints upon how he appeared which he could not overcome and he wondered if Odin had had a hand in that when he had been an infant. And the incredible amount of Seidr which had been poured into the wounds inflicted upon him by his ultimate punisher meant that he could never rid himself of them.

 

This much had been revealed to him when the most formidable of the Fire Giants torturing him had suddenly stepped aside in reverence, stopping the crushing blows of his cudgel upon Loki’s legs, and had bowed its great head to the one who had appeared in the lake of fire upon whose shore Loki had been chained. Through a film of dried tears, he had managed to see the largest being he had ever been in the presence of wading out of and seeming to form from the lava to come to stand before the twin columns of red hot rock to which Loki’s chains were attached.

 

Surtr

 

The Lord of Chaos. The very one he had existed under and had served for untold aeons before he had been made flesh. The spirit of Loki had been in existence long before he had arrived in the physical plain; he had been a Chaos daemon of Fire and had known nothing of physical restrictions or sensations. He had simply existed amongst all the other beings in the Chaos realm on the other side of the river of Dreams, beyond the stream of Death. But he had been called towards the corporeal world, tempted to leave behind his innocent and naïve servitude to the Giant Surtr. Born of Laufey and Farbauti at a time most unfortunate to the Frost Giant nation, Odin had plucked him from almost certain death in the physical plain and had saved him. Or had it been Odin who had tempted the excitable and impressionable Chaos Spirit to make that transition because he wanted to have his own piece of the realm of unpredictability?

 

Surtr had marked his departure from his realm of Chaos and he was most displeased. And now Thanos the Eternal had offered him the opportunity to demonstrate to this wayward Fire Spirit just how much he had angered the Lord of his former home realm. As Loki’s exhausted and broken mind allowed him to eventually process the vision before him and realisation sank in, small yet frantic sounds somehow began to emit from his torn vocal chords. Old memories of just how this formidable giant punished those who would dare to rise up against him began to flood Loki’s head and he began to struggle feebly against the biting chains embedded in the bloodied flesh of his wrists.

 

Surtr, still yet the being of Chaos he was, made no sound. He held out an arm of flickering flame, conjured from the elements of the surroundings in which they found themselves and in his hand a cruel whip of barbed spikes appeared. As the giant took another step towards the deserter who merited only his most severe punishment, the whip ignited into hot sulphurous fire and he drew it back, ready to strike. Knowing he was defeated, Loki allowed his head to fall forwards again; his body was now simply a vessel of pain, his legs were broken and unable to support his weight and he hung now from the burning shackles holding his swollen and bleeding wrists. The tiny black-winged daemons had feasted upon his flesh for hours and now his back was an ocean of raw bloodied meat in which only a few islands of pale grey Jotúnn skin remained. With every breath, the white bones were exposed in the valleys which had been created in his muscle by the evil creatures, through which rivers of his crimson blood flowed weakly, now severely depleted. He had believed himself to be at the end of all he could bear, that he would perish soon and that this would all be over. Unfortunately, he was wrong. The first lash Surtr landed upon him tore into his arm with hot fiery barbs, leaving a bloody burning wound deep in his bicep and a fresh gout of blood erupted from it, landing on the hot earth and sizzling in miniature red frothing pools of gore. Loki cried out in agony.

 

The second, with a much better aim and with much greater vigour, tore his flesh down to his skull from just above his eye and right back along his scalp, ripping it wide open and leaving trails of fire inside where his once beautiful black hair was torn from him. Wicked barbs on razor-wire ribbons which depended from the end of the whip caught under his chin and scraped up his face, lacerating the ashen grey Jotúnn skin and exposing the scarlet flesh and white of his bones beneath. The Fire Seidr woven into the lashes by the Lord of Chaos began to burn the wounds with their own intense heat and the Trickster lost any semblance of physical control. He had thought himself made mute by the torture so far, but the resilience of the corporeal body he had built for himself betrayed him now in its ability to survive this insane abuse. Loki shrieked until the last shreds of his vocal chords finally gave up and ruptured into tortured silence, but still he screamed on voicelessly, blood streaming from the huge gash in his scalp and the agonising rents in his face.

 

Somehow, in sick satisfaction with this primal reaction from the spirit made flesh that had escaped his servitude, Surtr released his control over the elements that had coalesced to create his temporary physical body. He felt that the one who now called himself Loki had broken under his punishment and that the Eternal Thanos would be satisfied with it. The Trickster would surely agree to help him now, especially with the threat of renewed torture; the Infinity Gauntlet would be completed and all of reality would be torn asunder!

 

Chaos would rule once more!

 

Surtr’s form broke up and the fire elements he was made up of retreated away from the rocky island upon which Loki was suspended by his wrists on the pillars of rock. Deciding his part in this torture was complete, the Lord of Chaos returned to his own realm.

 

“I have made my decision, Erika. I cannot show you that scar.” Murmured Loki. “It is just too much. I keep it hidden so well that even I have not seen it for a long time, although it pains me constantly. In order for you to ever see that, I would have to reveal to you exactly who I really am and I do not know if even I am prepared to see that. I just… “

“Loki.” Erika interrupted softly and placed a hand on Loki’s arm, “You do not have to explain. You do not have to show me for me to believe it is there.” Loki had bowed his head again and was avoiding looking at her. “Loki… Loki, look at me.” She touched his chin lightly and he raised his head slowly, his fractured eyes swimming with tears of remembered pain. “What matters is who you choose to be now. And the way I see it, you have three times as much to choose from as anyone else!” She smiled brightly, trying to lighten his mood and he, in turn, looked at her with those chaotic eyes, partly puzzled at her optimistic outlook and partly touched at her attempt to make him feel better. Such a sweet girl. Loki studied her intently and the same thought he had been having more and more just lately came to him again:

 

A girl he could not do without.


	8. Seven: Scar Five: The Trials Of Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki reveals something he finds to be shameful.

 

“I suppose I do.” He mused, “Although I do not think I would ever risk an attempt to return to my Chaotic self. I have no idea if that would be an irreversible transformation!” He peered at Erika thoughtfully, those infamous deep green eyes of his masking his true nature once again as the fire-filled cracks faded away along with the old emotions of fear. She smiled at him and he was again slightly bemused by the open and naïve way in which she related to him. When he was angry with her, she would cower from him up to a certain point but then she would eventually stand her ground and lash back – especially if she thought she was being treated unfairly. Yet when she caught him at his low points, she treated him as she would a close friend or family member. She had a big heart and somehow she had managed to find room in it for him; it seemed the Trickster, the Liar… the Usurper King who was hiding behind a disguise in order to rule had someone who cared.

 

“How did you escape the Abyss, Loki? How did you recover enough to get out of there?” She indicated his appearance with a wave of her hand, “Except for the scars on your back, no one would know just how bad your experience was. Even I cannot imagine it exactly as it must have been, even though the pictures your words painted in my mind were horrible to say the least.”

“I apologise, Erika. I should never have agreed to this. Or I should have told you in a less explicit way. I…”

“It is alright, Loki. I asked for better understanding. But please tell me how you got out.”

“It is not pretty,” Sighed Loki, “and I am not proud of it.” He turned over his arm, “It is how I got this…” Erika looked to where he brought her attention to his wrist and saw a glowing sigil appear which looked like it was just underneath his skin. The purple light was set in a strange pattern, but as she looked at it, the shapes seemed to swim around to form a word.

 

Slave

 

“Can you read it?” Asked Loki as she traced the glowing letters with her finger. She looked up at him, “Yes, it says…”

“Slave.” Finished Loki. “As in Thanos’ slave. Hah! How utterly embarrassing - I am a God and the King of Asgard, yet I am nothing more than a cheap slave! No matter your native language, you will be able to read it. All his minions have it and I am surprised he has not turned up in Asgard yet to see where this ‘slave’ is. He must know something is wrong here and I do not believe that he thinks Odin still rules. If he has anything about him, he must have at least realised the All-Father is not his usual self. Am I truly still believed to be dead, Erika?”

“Well, er…” Erika knew – as did Loki – about the rumours that he still lived.

“It matters not. The time grows near for me to let Asgard know who truly sits upon the throne. Then Thanos will undoubtedly come to find me. It does not help much that I have something he wants…” Loki looked a little distracted, “I shall have to get rid of it.” He grimaced and reached for his goblet, “I am afraid I do not recall much of the time straight after I was tortured in those chains. I must have received some kind of healing, however, as my legs had been set and had healed properly. All my other wounds had closed and my skin had grown back over them. Of course, the scars of the worst of it remained and as I may have mentioned by now, because of how they were created they give me constant pain. I numb it of course, but I still feel them to a certain extent.

 

“Regaining full consciousness took some time. The first time I almost instantly passed out again because of the pain. I do not recall where I was, but I believe I was being attended to in some kind of medical facility. The second time I managed to stay conscious for a few minutes and I saw that I was in a plain room lying on a bed on my side. I instinctively moved, but the sudden shock of the agony it caused made me lose consciousness again. Obviously during this time my body was healing, but in a natural fashion which is why the scars formed; if I had been conscious then I would have tried to make sure things had gone a lot better and left no marks.” He chuckled quietly, “I suppose that is the vain side of me talking.

 

“The overriding memory through, is one of relief. Although I still felt pain, it was much reduced and the background discomforts of thirst, heat, hunger and so on had gone. I was in a quiet cool room and somehow I had been fed and hydrated whilst I was insensible. The terrible and all-consuming pain had diminished and I felt as if I was being saved. So when I awoke to find Thanos there, you can probably appreciate I had a measure of confusion. Why was I being given help by the one who had caused me to be in such a condition that I needed it? However, my state of mind was not strong and it did not get in the way of what he wanted to achieve. Within a few days of regaining full consciousness and being treated with a modicum of decency, I was his. I do not believe I am ashamed of the fact; I would defy anyone to resist kindness after such abuse. Thanos now applied the Mind Gem’s powers in a way that appealed to the part of me that was simply grateful to have had all torture stopped. It convinced me that he was my saviour, the balm to my injuries.

 

“And so I became his tool. The promise of having a realm to rule in return for the retrieval of some small blue energy cube from the mortals was just too delicious to resist after having faced death so close up. I was introduced to the Chitauri. They are a strange race of clones bred purely for war and I was told I could have the leavings of Midgard for my own once the Tesseract was retrieved and passed to Thanos. I went through much training in the Chitauri army and there were many trials to pass through in order to prove my worth to them. It took a long time for my physical state to return to the level required to go to war and I suffered many setbacks when I was sent up against some of these creatures to train in hand to hand combat and the like.” Loki looked down at the purple sigil on his wrist. “Eventually, I earned this. I had been blinded by the Mind Gem into accepting his fake kindnesses and his empty promises and I fell straight into the trap he had concocted. I think you know that I became the leader of the Chitauri army and that I invaded Midgard.”

 

He placed his goblet hard down onto the table and stood up to cross over to the fireplace, where he placed both his hands on the mantelpiece and stared into these small and ineffectual flames. The warmth they gave off was as nothing compared to the heat he had endured in that place of torture.

 

“I was nothing more than a puppet!” He snarled, “I thought I was acting independently and of my own volition…” He turned around and indicated his sigil, “… but no! Every time I strayed, every time I tried to deviate from his plans and follow my own path, I was reminded of my time at his cruel hands and I fell instantly back into line. My weapon contained one method of control over me and if that did not quite get me to do what he desired, then this brand was his back up plan. The only thing I do not understand is why Thanos has ceased to use this to control me. All I can imagine is that he perhaps has a new ally of some kind for his quest and that I no longer matter to him as much. Either that, or the magical shielding around the Palace and city is impeding any signal it may give off.”

 

He turned back and smiled in an over-bright and somewhat sarcastic manner. He held his arm out and Erika watched as the purple light started to fade to a point where it was not as noticeable, “And there it is – my fifth scar, Erika. My slave mark from Thanos.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Trial Of Loki is one of the tracks on the "Thor: The Dark World" Original Sound Track by Brian Tyler.  
> The "Thor" OST is the better of the two (By Patrick Doyle) IMHO, but they are both very good.


	9. Eight: The Indelible Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In her attempt to help Loki out, Erika inadvertently stumbles on the truth of how Loki may have received his sixth scar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not so much graphic in a gore/horror way.  
> The story hurts just as much, but in an emotional way...

 

Erika did not quite know what to say. Loki was someone’s slave? It did not seem possible! This Thanos must be a powerful being indeed if he was able to break a God in this way. She wondered now if the way Loki behaved was all his own will or if he was influenced still through the sigil he bore on his wrist. In true Erika style, she decided to ask the obvious questions.

 

“Why have you not had it removed? Why would you remain a potential slave to someone else? How do you know you are not being influenced through it?” Loki’s eyes narrowed as her questions began to annoy him, “I knew there was something more to your behaviour! You are not a bad person, Loki. You need to try to get rid…”

“NO!” Shouted Loki. He strode over towards where she sat, “I do not need a mere child to tell me what I should or should not do!” he continued, his bare feet slapping the marble floor as he crossed it. He loomed over her, his black hair falling forwards to frame his angry face. Erika shrank back into the sofa, her eyes wide with fear as he leaned towards her then placed one hand on the back of the sofa behind her, and she began to panic; had she pushed him too far? She had suffered at his hand when he had been wound up before and she did not want to experience it again. But all this talk had stirred up his old memories and emotions of a terrible period of his life and now she had poked the reopened wounds with a sharp stick. She began to whimper as he grew closer.

 

Loki paused and studied the frightened girl who had dared to ask such inflammatory questions of him, then exhaled in exasperation and pulled away from her. “I am sorry, Erika.” He muttered and sank slowly down onto the sofa next to her. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on his legs and he sat with his shoulders hunched, picking angrily at the wrist that bore Thanos’ mark with the fingers of his other hand. Ironically, it was the same wrist that a Frost Giant had grasped on Jotúnnheimr the time Thor had led his brother and friends there in order to pick a fight. It was the time Loki’s world had been irreversibly turned upside down. He felt her cool gentle fingers smooth his hair back from his face and she leant forwards to try to catch his eye, “No, Highness. It is I who should apologise for asking such insensitive questions of you. I simply wanted to…”

“I have not tried to have it removed because I do not know what will happen if I do.” Said Loki abruptly, cutting off her apology. “If it is simply a magic restraining mark, then perhaps it would just vanish if magically removed; if it is an actual object implanted in my wrist, will it do the same? All I know is that all magic leaves a signature of some kind. Mine was blue when I was an infant and it gradually became green as I grew up, took on certain character traits of my teacher and as I grew more proficient in its casting. I was shown how everything magical leaves a trace, who is able to see it and how to disguise it, too. The problem is… I can usually feel when my own enchantments are broken; some more powerfully than others. So I do not know what would happen should I try to get rid of this mark.

 

“What would happen if I accidentally set off an alarm or caused it to send out a signal of some kind? I have not been bothered by Thanos for quite a while. Admittedly, I was held in prison here for much of that time, but I do not wish to inadvertently alert him to my presence.”

 

Loki’s voice grew quiet and a faint look of distress crossed his face, “I cannot go back there, Erika, to where he held me and broke me! I failed in my mission and I owe him a huge debt – he may not even be so lenient as to merely subject me to the same torture again.” He bit a fingernail thoughtfully, “I need to rid myself of the Tesseract. Once it has gone from here, Asgard will be of no interest to him anymore. Nor will I. He has much, much bigger plans in mind and without his Infinity Gem I am insignificant in comparison.”

 

His young maid frowned; she was not very knowledgeable when it came to inter-galactic politics and power struggles, but one thing in which she was very astute for her age – perhaps because she was a woman – was the reading of body language. Thanos – this “Eternal”, this “Titan” – scared Loki! The God of Lies and Master of Tricks was plain afraid of him. And if Loki was scared, then so was she.

 

“You need to get rid of him! Throw this Tesser… Tessi… blue power cube away! Send it somewhere far away through the Bi Frost or something!” Loki smiled at her naïve enthusiasm, “Then… then you need to go to the most magically shielded part of Yggdrasil and get that mark off you! There must be someone who can help you!” Erika clutched at his arm and lightly touched his skin where the sigil was imprinted. She looked at him questioningly, “Loki, you have strong Seidr – you use it all the time. Were you not schooled? Do you not have friends or acquaintances that have knowledge in the magical arts? There must be someone you look up to, someone with more experience than you – or at least someone who can point you in the right direction?”

 

The hurt look that creased Loki’s features into a sudden mask of utter sorrow shocked Erika so much that her hands flew up to touch his temples and her eyes searched his as she whispered softly, “Loki, Loki? What is it? What have I said? I never meant to hurt you! I… I am so sorry!”

“Do not fret Erika.” Said Loki in a low voice. Tears spilled from his eyes as he took her hands and gently removed them from his face. Holding them, he studied them as he stroked them with his long pale fingers, “You have done nothing wrong.” He conjured and then held a square of soft green cloth up to his eyes and wiped them, irritated at this show of weakness, but he could not help how Erika’s innocently spoken words had made him feel. They were like a stab to his heart. “My teacher… you are right. I did look up to her and she would have known what to do even if her own magic might not have been powerful enough. But she is no longer here to ask…” His voice cracked again and he stopped talking, gripping her hands tightly as his shoulders began to shake and he bent his head to hide the new tears.

 

By the Norns! Erika admonished herself inside. Why could she not keep a hold on her wayward mouth? Far too late she realised why her rash questions had hurt her King so much. Of course there had been someone who had taught him in the arts of Seidr and of course… he had adored her.

 

His mother.

 

Frigga, Queen of Asgard.


	10. Nine: The Downward Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki thinks back to how it all began to go wrong...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short breather before we see how things transpired when Kurse broke out - from Loki's point of view.

 

Frigga. The most beautiful, noble, kind-hearted and strong woman he had ever known and whose like he would probably never meet again. As he allowed her memory to surface, he was washed over with feelings of warmth, happiness, comfort and a love so profound he felt he would burst. It hurt him. It hurt him badly. And just as a deep ache nestled in his stomach, the memories changed. They were replaced by long hours spent walking through the gardens, training in the dance hall and in the art of knife combat, practising the spells and illusions over and over, secret grins exchanged across the feasting tables when the songs became bawdy and Thor would become too loud… A small smile managed to grace his thin lips as he replayed some of the happier and funny memories, but it soon faded. He remembered the way that his Royal duties – mostly imposed on him by Odin – had drawn him away from her as he had grown older. The times they spent together became less fun and less frequent. And then there had been the way Thor had been given more attention and had spent more and more time – at home and abroad – with the King and Queen as the heir apparent.

 

Loki’s subsequent attention-seeking pranks, for that is what they were, had distanced him from both of his parents further. He had earned only disapproval and disappointment. He was not entrusted with nearly as much as he might have, had he been more responsible and reliable. Unfortunately, as Queen of Asgard, Frigga could not be seen to disagree with her husband and King and so it was very rare that she would side with the Trickster whenever there was a disagreement of some kind. But still, he had loved her and he had eventually made a decision to try to grow up a little in order to regain the trust of both her and the All Father. Aside from the odd illusion and playing a few pranks here and there, Loki did make an effort to act in a more mature manner as he grew up. However, he could not shake the envy he held for his older sibling. He loved Thor with all his heart and he did look up to some of his more impressive feats, but the disparity with which Odin treated the two young men could not be ignored and Loki felt more and more that he was being sidelined. Although Odin had once promised them that they were both born to be Kings, he was now – in Loki’s mind – clearly breaking that promise in not allowing the dark haired younger Prince an even chance to prove his worthiness.

 

Then, out of the blue, Odin had announced his abdication. Something not one of the citizens of the golden city of Asgard had ever expected to hear. They had naturally assumed that Odin might fall in glorious battle defending the realm, or live out his days on the throne. But the truth was that Asgard had known an unprecedented era of peace and there were precious few battles to fight. There were truces and treaties between the realms and Asgard’s military strength was renowned across the Nine. No one dared to make or to invite war with her.

 

Preparations for the coronation of the new King of Asgard took weeks and everyone was involved. New clothes were fitted, there was redecoration of large portions of the Palace, new recipes were created, the gardeners were kept busy sprucing up the grounds, special entertainments were designed… the list of things lavished upon this rare occasion went on and on and after a few weeks, Loki was absolutely sick of hearing about it. “Thor will love this”, “Thor will love that”, “Oh – we must simply have to have that for the coronation”… There was hardly a moment of the day when he did not overhear or get dragged into a conversation about the damned coronation of his brother. He tried to remain happy for Thor, but the truth was that he did not feel the golden haired God had merited the throne. He had simply been given it. There had been no direct comparison in skills made between them and Loki had not had any kind of talk with Odin as to whether he even had a chance of being King in recent years. Once rooted, his jealousy grew and blossomed into a flower which bore poisonous blooms and he began to concoct the ultimate prank; to spoil Thor’s coronation.

 

He had thought back to the time Odin had been teaching them about how a good King would never make war, but would always be prepared for it. They had been in the weapons vault and one of the artefacts there had fascinated him. It was the Casket of Ancient Winters and it was the power source of the realm Jotúnnheimr. As Odin had been talking to the two boys, Loki had stared into its depths and had been mesmerised by the blue and grey storm which waged inside its glass casing. It had called to him and he had felt a strange affinity to the maelstrom within it. As he thought of this, a plan had formed in his mind and he had eventually cloaked himself and had visited Jotúnnheimr, whereupon he had offered to conceal a couple of Frost Giants and allow them access to the weapons vault in order that they may steal the casket back and take it home. The break-in would create a problem, the coronation would be spoiled – possibly stopped – and Loki could stand back and watch it all go wrong in the satisfaction that he had caused it.

 

Loki now smiled bitterly. His prank had inadvertently led to the revelation that his true physical form was that of a Frost Giant. One of the many times a prank had back fired upon him. And it was another prank he had pulled, an immature and dangerous one, that had led to the scar he was about to tell Erika of. He calmed himself down and wiped away his tears.

 

“Loki, I am so sorry…” Erika felt really bad about what her words had caused and she rested her hand lightly on his arm in sympathy.

“It matters not, Erika,” Smiled the Trickster sadly, “I do not believe I could have ever got through the telling of my tale without a little upset along the way. I have mentioned my worst physical scar to you – the one I would rather keep concealed, but I have not mentioned the two remaining scars. One is not a scar you can see. It is part of me inside. The make up of who I am, not how I appear.” He raised his eyebrows and almost laughed, “Whew! How inwardly searching of me! How to put it in layman’s terms? These were two things that happened to me in recent times that affected how I think, how I feel… how I relate to others… oh, my whole self, I suppose, but one of them is hidden within me.”

 

Erika looked down to watch in surprise as he gently took her hands and clasped them in his own, which were much bigger than hers; the long pale fingers easily encircling hers. He brought her hands to his chest and placed them on his cool skin over his heart, pressing them just where she could faintly feel it beating within him. He watched her as she concentrated and she met his eyes as she felt it, smiling. He smiled back at her, “See, Erika? I do have one…”

 


	11. Ten: Scar Six: Into Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki finally explains the nature of his sixth scar. Maybe not his worst physical scar, but possibly the one that hurts him the most...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Into Eternity" Is also a soundtrack on Thor: The Dark World.  
> Check it out :)

 

“… and it is where I feel my worst pain, Erika. This is a scar none can see, but I feel it. I feel it every day and I cannot ever be rid of it. The worst of it is; if I had heeded the warnings of Thanos, if I had paid attention and I had believed… then this scar would never have existed and a lot of things would have been so very different.” He squeezed her hands gently and held them close to his chest, looking at her earnestly “I caused this, Erika! I made this happen and it is the single biggest regret in my life.” He shivered slightly and let go of the small hands of his maid, whereupon she reached for the robe and held it out to him, “Highness…?”

“Thank you Erika.” He took it and draped it round his shoulders then reached for his goblet. A good draught of the spicy red wine sent a warm feeling throughout him physically, but it – along with the robe – could not banish the coldness within him that was purely down to his dreadful memories.

 

“I was hauled back from Midgard in chains, muzzled like an animal so as to stop me from using my magic. Hah! I allowed them to think it had worked. Those shackles and that muzzle were of no more use than a silken handkerchief and darning thread against me! After I had agreed to help Thanos, I had received training from a hundred different worlds and it was not all physical. I had access to alien power beyond imagining! I have learned incantations and alchemy and potion making such as has never been seen in the Nine! It suited me to be brought back as a prisoner, so that Thanos could not possibly get to me and I expected to be treated in a privileged manner as one of the Princes of Asgard – or so I thought. However, upon my arrival I was treated to a closed trial by the All Father. He was furious about my invasion of Midgard and of course for angering such a powerful being as Thanos, but I am afraid I was feeling rather unrepentant. It was only when he told me that the axe had been spared solely through Frigga’s influence and that he was banning me from seeing her in the flesh ever again that I realised just how much trouble I had landed myself in. But it was too late by then. I was thrown into prison as you know and left there.

 

“What can I say? I was bored beyond words. I had no physical contact with anyone save the poor souls whose purpose was to bring me my meals and to attend to menial tasks such as my laundry and keeping my cell clean. I admit I was not very nice to them. My only entertainment was to tease and to scare them. Frigga did visit, but it was never personally, it was only ever through her Seidr. She cast an image of herself in a bowl of fire which she projected into my cell – and I do not think Odin was fully aware of this. She sent books and we played board games – or rather, I played the board games while she could only instruct her moves, which I carried out.” He sighed and drank deeply of his wine, “It was Helheimr on Asgard, Erika! No natural daylight, only the other prisoners to watch – and none of them were intelligent enough for me to want to try to engage with. They were the scum of the Nine. I wanted to get out so desperately; to go to the stables, to tend to my herb garden, walk along the river – to breathe fresh air! But every request was turned down flat. No reason, no chance of appeal; just a simple no.”

 

“I became very bitter, very angry. I found it increasingly difficult to hold my tongue when Frigga visited and began to lose my ability to remain civil with her. No one else ever came to see me however, and so I had to try really hard to not simply tell her to leave me be. But after many, many months, all her visits accomplished was to remind me that there was a world outside and that Odin was adamant that I would never set foot in it again. I had a tremendous argument with her one day; Odin and Thor had put down one of the many rebellions that had occurred as a result of the Bi Frost being put out of action – Thor’s fault, you understand? – and a large group of prisoners arrived. I made some kind of crass remark about it and Frigga’s reply mentioned Odin, calling him my father. I shouted at her and told her he was not my father…” Loki paused and Erika knew it was getting difficult for him to tell her of what had happened, but she stayed quiet; now was not the time to interrupt her King. She watched as he knocked back the rest of his drink, “I told her she was not my mother, too. It was the last thing I ever said to her.” He got up and picked up the carafe, pouring yet another gobletful. “I need some fresh air.” He said, and walked out onto the balcony. Erika hesitated. What he had just told her was awful. Loki and Frigga had always been known around the Palace and Asgard as being so very close. In fact, he had spent far more time with her than anyone else before it had all gone wrong. She sighed and poured a little more wine into her own cup. Drawing the collar of her uniform close round her neck, she followed him out onto the balcony, where she found him looking up to the stars.

 

As she arrived at the wall of the balcony and leaned on it next to him, he said: “I put her there, Erika. It was my fault.” He pointed to the constellation of bright white stars which represented Frigga, “Right there, from where she could not return, meaning I would truly never see her again.” Erika looked up at the group of brilliant white twinkling stars, wondering what he meant. Frigga had been murdered by Kurse, the monster that had been made out of Algrim by Malekith. Why was Loki saying he had killed her himself? After a few moments, the tall King looked down at her and carried on with his story; “I was in my cell, whiling the time away messing with a small cup, throwing it into the air and catching it, thinking about nothing in particular. There was a commotion in one of the other cells and after it did not cease, I decided to go to have a look at what was happening. A powerful creature had managed to breach the magical barrier used to confine him and was allowing all the other prisoners out of their cells. It was creating havoc and the general alarm went up. It was a bit of entertainment after the tedium of the months I had been forced to stay there reading until I felt like my eyes would fall out and I watched as he went about it. The other prisoners – all bounty hunters and mercenaries, or fraudsters and thieves, or so they appeared to be – went on the rampage and it was not long before the sounds of the guards arriving came from the main doors, so I walked over to the front of my cell, wondering if the creature might breach the barrier and set me free.

 

“He stepped right up, I’ll give him that much. I looked him over and he looked at me, but I think in the end he did not quite have the bottle to let me out! However, I was not about to pass up the opportunity to break out of prison, even if there was no one brave enough to do it for me directly. I could see the other prisoners were a diversion – a way for him to slip away while the guards were otherwise occupied – and I guessed he was probably going to try to get access to the weapons vault for someone else. I knew the barriers would be up, so I simply directed him to the control room.” Loki laughed bitterly. “I told him how to get to the room where he could sabotage the barriers which were protecting the Palace and the weapons vault. I gave him the way in which he could get Malekith into the Palace. I knew nothing of the real reason they were here – the Aether. How could I have known he would go straight to the Queen’s rooms and kill her! But still, I killed Frigga, Erika! I killed my mother!” Loki dropped his goblet and clasped his hands over his heart, staring desperately up at the constellation in the sky through eyes blurred with sorrowful tears, “I killed my mother...” He whispered. As Erika stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around him, he took one of her hands and held it against his chest as before, “And this is where it hurts, Erika. In here is where my actions that day scarred me forever.” She hugged him as tightly as she could and they stayed out there for long moments as her King gave vent to his anguish and cried as she had never seen him cry before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will feel Loki's pain - you WILL!!!
> 
> OK, you probably are sitting there thinking "Yup, Palefire73 really has got it bad. She really feels for this character and thinks about his situation a lot." and you would be right. But the truth is that this Nordic God, who I had known about as part of my general knowledge for as long as I can remember, was given a signal boost by the Marvel films at a time when I was looking for something to stop me going a little bit mad. I was developing a lot of bad habits which were going to eventually effect the people who are important to me in my life, and focussing on something like writing (an unfulfilled life-long ambition) pulled me back from the tipping point.
> 
> I have been laughed at, called a sad middle-aged woman, told I need help for my obsession and various other mean things, but luckily I am still here and I really do not know where I was going before Loki made me stop and think. No, not the actual God stood in my living room!! The myth. The legend. The film character. I am not so sad as to believe that I will walk in one day to find him standing there. But I am allowed to day dream. I am allowed to fantasise. And I am allowed to write it all down and self-publish on here.
> 
> To everyone still reading. Thank you. I just hope it takes those who need it away from their stresses and problems, even if it is only for five minutes. In the meantime - feel Loki's pain ;)
> 
> Palefire73  
> x


	12. Eleven: Scar Seven: The Healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all of Loki's scars are bad ones. This one reminds him that he does have something - or someone - good in his life...

 

The emotional demonstration of Loki was powerful to say the least and all Erika could do was to be there for him. She had the distinct impression that he had not been able to express himself like this to anyone for a long time – and certainly not since he had lost Frigga. She felt a mixture of embarrassment and sympathy; embarrassment at the very open way in which Loki was simply crying his heart out to his maid like this, but sympathy at how things had been so bad for him. No matter his true nature of being a liar and a trickster; the experiences he had been through in the last few years would have been enough to drive most people over the edge. Her King had hugged her close to him and had buried his face in her hair as his weeping had subsided and they were now just holding each other out on the balcony as Loki managed to calm down. He raised his head and smoothed her now messy hair down, magically removing the dampness of his tears from the blonde curls. He kissed the top of her head and relaxed his hold on her, realising that all of this was not the usual kind of behaviour found between a King and his servant.

 

“Thank you Erika.” He murmured and kissed her head again before letting her go completely. He looked at her thoughtfully, “Thank you for listening to me and for not judging me.” He turned and went back inside with Erika following him and they went back to the sofa near the fireplace. Erika had picked up his goblet from the balcony floor and the carafe of wine and she held them up questioningly. “Yes please.” Said Loki and she poured him a drink, handing it to him before sitting back down at the other end of the sofa and picking up the cushion she had been hugging earlier.

 

“So, you have seen and heard about my scars, Erika.” Sighed Loki, “Not the nicest of tales, admittedly. Nor are they meant as an excuse; I am who I am no matter what has happened to me, but I think you might appreciate that the circumstances which led to their formation may have influenced certain choices I made and the attitudes I have towards some of the people around me…” He stopped as his maid chuckled, “What? What have I said?”

“Highness, they may not be excuses, but they are certainly the reasons why you do and say a lot of things. You cannot possibly say they have not had a big influence on you – how could anyone come through all of that unscathed?” She looked at her King as he sat on the sofa, one leg drawn up with the foot on the seat as he hugged his bent knee and stared over at the fire. He had allowed his robe to slip back down off his shoulders and she caught sight of his scars again, but this time she was not afraid to look at them and she knew it would no longer bother him; they were a part of him and if he chose to leave them out on display, then why should she avoid them purposefully and have an air of tension created?

 

As he reached out to place his goblet back on the table in front of him, she noticed a silver streak on his skin just at the base of his thumb and wondered what it was.

 

“Loki…?”

“Yes?” The dark haired Trickster turned to look at her, resting his cheek on his raised up thigh.

“Does anyone else know of these marks? Have you shown anyone else?”

 

His expression gave nothing away as his piercing green eyes stared over at her thoughtfully. Eventually, he blinked slowly, still looking at her. “No.” He said simply. “You are the only one who knows. I had no privacy upon my return to Asgard and even if I had, no one actually physically visited me. It is not something I would have revealed through my communications with Frigga using the Seidr casting. They are too personal, too… private to me. And now I have no one close enough to tell of such things.”

“Then why have you entrusted all of this to me?” Exclaimed Erika. “Are you saying I managed to convince you to tell your mere servant something which you could not bring yourself to confide to someone from your family or your fr…”

“I have no family.” Interrupted Loki softly.

“Oh yes you do!” Replied Erika, a little loudly. “Who do you think Thor is? And do not give me a long story about how you are not kin! You grew up together whether you like it or not and you cannot throw a thousand years of brotherhood away just like that!” Ignoring the look he was giving her, which was growing darker with every word, she ploughed on. “Is there really no one who knows you are still alive? No one at all? And I do not mean the conspiracy theorists out there. I mean someone who cares! What about your children? Do any of them know that you are…”

“Erika…”

“… still around? Surely none of them would…”

“Erika…”

“… give away your presence! I cannot be the only one you have to talk to about…”

“Erika!” Loki raised his voice almost to a shout and the young maid finally stopped talking as he lowered his leg and sat with his hands in his lap, picking at his fingers. “There is no one.” This was not the complete truth, but it made things simpler for telling all these things to his maid; she would hopefully drop the matter now. He absent-mindedly rubbed at the silvery mark she had seen earlier and she wondered what it was. She got up and went to sit next to him, taking his hand in hers and turning it over to look at his palm. On the meaty part of the base of his thumb she saw it again. It was not very big, but it was a definite scar and was silvery in appearance. Not so very old that it had had a chance to fade, but not incredibly fresh.

 

“Where did you get this?” She asked, stroking the smooth patch of skin.

“It was not that long ago… I… I allowed it to form even though I could have eradicated it easily.”

“Then why have you kept it?”

“Because this scar gives me hope.” Pulling his arm back, Loki traced the silver skin with the tip of his finger, moving it up and down the two inch mark as he thought about how he had got it and the subsequent events. It had been a time of discovery – both about himself and of this girl sitting here with him.

“Hope?”

“Yes, all the others have negativity surrounding them, but this one… this one reminds me that even I am lucky enough to not be truly alone.” He smiled and an ironic laugh escaped him, “This is yours, Erika. You looked after me when I was so ill and I think I began to see even through my jaded eyes that you actually cared. It was difficult for me to accept and I apologise for my behaviour towards you. This wound…” He held his hand out for them both to look at, “… you missed it because you were more concerned with me losing weight and being unconscious. When I discovered it, my instinct was to get rid of it, but I decided to keep it to remind me of what you had done for me.

 

“Things are not that good, Erika. I cannot hold out much longer with my disguise as the All-Father. I am going away soon to train with my King’s Company and I shall be gone for a few weeks. I am seriously considering letting the Asgardians know of my existence and I will need all the support I can get.” Loki reached across and pretended to box her affectionately on the nose, “That is where you will come in. Erika, I see this scar as the start of a new chapter in my life, one where all the injury done to me in suffering the others is going to be reversed, allowing me to grow stronger and more effective in achieving my goals. This, for me, is now a special mark caused by the actions of a special person.

 

 

“Erika, it may just be that you are my healer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't have even more bad stuff. Even I, as possibly one of his less forgiving authors, could not be so heartless as to leave him completely destitute and without hope!
> 
> Epilogue to follow.


	13. Thirteen: Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much emotion shared in just a few hours and so much for Erika to take in about her King's past. Will Loki be grateful that he has managed to finally share the horrendous things he endured......

 

As Loki had said these last words to Erika, the faint chimes of the timepiece reminded them that it had crept round to two o’clock in the morning and she had suddenly yawned. She had apologised, but it had broken the tension that had begun to build as she had not been able to answer what he had said to her. His healer? What on Asgard did he mean? She was simply his maid – although they did not have the most traditional of working relationships, it had to be said. Keeping the time fresh in both their minds, she rose from the sofa and announced that she ought to be going to bed because it was going to be difficult enough to get up at six thirty as it was.

 

“You also need to prepare your disguise as Odin particularly well, because you have that visit to the new Royal Farriers to attend, remember? Odin would never turn up only half dressed and with…”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Snapped Loki and he got up from his place on the sofa too. “Odin was perfect; we all know that!”

 

Erika was taken aback by his sudden change in mood; she had only been making a jest of it, but he had taken it completely the wrong way and was now showing signs of being in a bad mood. He looked at her strangely and she wondered what the matter was with him; his face had a dark expression and all the apparent sensitivity and friendliness he had been exhibiting just a few minutes ago had disappeared. She picked up the goblet and carafe, then went to retrieve her cup. “I will take these to the kitchens,” She said, “will there be anything else, Your Highness?”

 

Loki was now looking pre-occupied and did not immediately reply to her, instead conjuring a black soft shirt to go with the lounging pants he was wearing. He put on the black robe over the top and suddenly looked towards the windows, turning his back on her. “I am going to spend a little time out on the balcony, Erika. I need to think. You may retire and… do not worry about your duties first thing. I will get myself ready to leave for the visit to the farriers. Have a late start and get some rest. It is the least I can do after making you listen to my tales of woe until this hour.” He went to go out onto the balcony, but her words stopped him momentarily.

“You did not make me listen, Highness. I wanted to. Will you be returning here in the evening for your supper?”

 

The dark haired King resumed his path to the balcony without looking at her, “Yes, please.” he said over his shoulder and Erika made for the door. The almost special atmosphere that had existed while Loki had confided in her had now disappeared; things were back to normal.

 

“By the way, Erika.” Loki’s voice had a harsh quality to it and she realised that the last few hours had only been a temporary change in how he related to her. “You will tell no one of this. You will not record it anywhere and you will not speak to me of it again, do you understand?”

She did not need to be told again; she knew that tone very well and had suffered for ignoring it on more than one occasion. “Yes, Your Highness.” She replied, and left her King alone once more, completely missing the faint blue shine of Loki’s eyes as the remnants of the programming he had received through the Mind Gem rose to the surface to plague him. Would he never be truly free of its influence…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...... of course not!
> 
> Yes, Loki is Loki and I could not have him going all mushy on us, could I? He may be realising Erika is more than just a maid, but he won't break character and go all happily ever after. Not here. Oh no..... *evil laugh*
> 
> Thank you for reading this short story which was intended to bring more to the characters in my Lokiverse. I know it was not a nice story, but I hope you liked it none-the-less!


End file.
